The Sky High Guide to Basic Manners
by dreamingfate
Summary: Keith Goodman - upstanding hero in public; dirty, dirty slut in private.


Bringing random men home was a bad idea. Keith knew that. He also knew it was a worse idea to bring them home when he was well on his way to 'falling-over' drunk, had known the guy for all of an hour, and hadn't even bothered to ask his name yet but that had never stopped him before, and it certainly wasn't going to now.

He guessed the guy must be a businessman of some sort – a salaryman perhaps – looking at his neat, tailored suit and crisp ironed shirt. Not that they looked so crisp and neat and tailored now, discarded across Keith's living room floor in heaps along with his own more casual clothes. He approved of the man's tie most of all, though. It was made from fine silk, a beautiful deep burgundy in the half-light coming from the hallway (the only light he'd had a chance to switch on before the guy had grabbed him). Soft enough that it didn't hurt Keith's wrists at all, even though it bound them tight together and tied them in a pretty bow.

"Please," he said, almost in his native tongue. His Japanese was all right, good enough to understand most things, but at times like this it was easy to get distracted and forget himself. He moaned deeply as those busy lubed fingers explored him again, three this time, judging by the stretch. The guy knew exactly what he was doing; those fingers felt fucking fantastic inside him.

He was entirely naked with a man he'd never even met before, tied up, bent over the arm of his own couch and about to get fucked senseless, hard and impatient and already aching for release. Doing things like this made him feel so dirty. Screwing men he didn't know, allowing them to do what they wanted with him, knowing the whole time that they didn't give a shit about who he was and were never going to ask his name, caring only that he stay good and submissive while they had their way with him – it made Keith a slut, and he knew it.

Not only did he know it, he needed it. Feeling worthless got him off like nothing else – it released the heavy pressure of his hero work, the need to constantly be an Upstanding Citizen, to dedicate himself to serving others, forever under the eye of the city. This, though, this was for him. To the men he brought home, he was a nobody. No expectations to disappoint, no corporate-sponsored and company-dictated persona to live up to, just him, naked and raw with his wants laid out for all to see.

The man grabbed Keith's hair roughly and pulled him upright so hard it made him gasp. Yes, that was what he wanted. He bucked disapprovingly as those fingers pulled out of him, backing his ass against the guy's thick cock. A hand reached round to tease his erection and he bit his lip, looking down to watch. A finger pushed over his slit, slick through his pre-come, and he could barely take it any more.

He cried out as the man's cock slid into him, more from relief than anything, jaw dropping and brows furrowing as hot, liquid pleasure spread through him with each thrust. It had been too long since the last time Keith had done this. Far too long. And last time hadn't been anywhere near as good as this time. He could feel the pressure building behind his balls already, growing steadily.

The man released his grip on Keith's hair, shoving him forward over the sofa arm instead and pinning him roughly by the neck, changing angle so that he could fuck Keith faster, slapping hard up against him and filling the living room air with lurid noise. The next time Keith had friends over he'd think about this, he was sure of it. The thought of getting hard inappropriately while he had company rocketed his arousal to a whole new level, and he moaned loudly.

"Shit like that makes me want to fuck all the noise out of you," the guy told him, breathless and strained already.

"Please," Keith whispered into the sofa, raising his ass against those powerful thrusts.

"Christ, you're sucking me in like a fucking _whore_,"

That had done it. That one word was Keith's inescapable green light, the term hard-wired into his pleasure-centre. He reeled into orgasm, climaxing hard, white-hot pulses lancing down his spine and through his spread thighs. In his delirium he heard his own voice, loud and unrestrained, noise spilling out of him as he released in messy spurts all over his fine leather couch. "_Thank you,_" he yelled as the man pushed the last of out of him, then, as he came down, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, body shuddering, he gasped and added "again, thank you."

The man stopped, straightened behind him and seemed uncertain now. "Tha-...Isn't that...Sky High's catchphrase...?" he said.

_Fuck._

* * *

><p>Originally posted on the t&amp;b LJ kink meme <em><br>_


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